Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Empathy With a Killer

I read this very disturbing story in yesterday’s LA Times. Former Food Network Chef, Juan-Carlos Cruz was recently sentenced to nine years in state prison after being convicted of paying a homeless man $1,000 to murder Cruz’s wife. The details in the newspaper of how Cruz suggested the man strangle his victim to avoid “a mess,” and how he provided doggie treats to keep his dogs from barking, are truly sickening. Regardless I read on, wondering what possible motivation there could be for this heinous crime.

A few more paragraphs in, I found his motivation: infertility.

According to the article:

Cruz told detectives when he was arrested that his wife had been “going through a midlife crisis” after unsuccessfully trying fertility treatments for more than a decade, according to the report. The couple spent more than $200,000 on fertility treatments and Cruz said he believed that killing his wife was “a ‘merciful’ way to end her suffering.”

The article continues:

Cruz, who told detectives he had considered taking his own life, said that Mother’s Day was especially painful for his wife and that he could not bear seeing her. When investigators asked Cruz when he began looking for someone to kill his wife, he told them that he had been looking for several weeks and wanted the task completed by Mother’s Day.

And this is the point where I actually felt sorry for the guy who plotted to kill his wife.

We all know (especially those of us who are childless-not-by-choice—just how hard Mother’s Day can be. I could picture this poor woman, already at the end of her rope, facing another Mother’s Day without children of her own. And I could picture her husband, at a total loss as to how to help her get through this. I can see the expression on his face, because I’ve seen that same look on my husband’s face when facing another infertility land mine and being powerless to do anything about it. Maybe murder was the only proactive thing that Cruz could come up with to help his wife.

Granted (as far as I know) my husband never conspired to have me bumped off, and I’m not condoning Cruz’s decision, but I can empathize with his motivation, even if I can’t understand, or forgive, his actions.

Finding My Christmas Cheer

It’s December and I can feel myself slipping into the black hole of the holidays. I have no gift ideas for my loved ones, no plans for how to spend Christmas, and frankly no time or energy to do anything about either. I could go on about being busy, getting frustrated with the holiday madness, and blah-di-blah, but it’s not Whiny Wednesday and that’s not what this post is about.

I’ll admit that my holiday funk stems from “that-time-which-shall-not-be-named” when my husband and I were at our lowest point on our infertility journey and decided not to bother with Christmas that year. We made no plans, didn’t get a tree, and decided to hole up for a few days and avoid everyone and everything Christmas-y. About two days before Christmas I finally cracked and thought, “I’m infertile; I’m not dead!” and ran out and bought a rosemary tree and something delicious for Christmas dinner. But even now, I still can’t get my Christmas groove back.

I think part of this stems from my family being so far away. I used to enjoy shopping in October for my nieces and nephews, then shipping a giant box of presents via surface mail. It was fun for me and for them to anticipate the arrival of the box. Would it make it in time? Would it make it at all? But since the USPS did away with surface mail and jacked up the airmail prices so that shipping costs more than the gifts, I do most of my Christmas shopping online and have it shipped direct. It’s efficient and convenient, but really, it’s no fun.

Today we received a gift from one of my husband’s corporate associates. Instead of the usual basket of fake cheese and heart attack salami, they sent us a beautiful live wreath. I opened it up and the house filled with the scent of pine and cedar. Christmas! Now, all of a sudden I want to get my tree, I want to bake gingerbread, and give homemade gifts. I want to throw a party, celebrate Christmas and have fun! But I can’t remember how.

If I’d had children I would have passed my family’s traditions on to them and my holiday fun would have revolved about them. But as it is, it’s just the two of us, and the cat, so how to make Christmas Christmas-y again?

What do you do to keep the Christmas cheer? Do you decorate? Bake? Sing? What do you do to keep the spirit of the holidays?

I’m going to find some string to hang up this wreath, and I’m going to get a rosemary bush and some poinsettia’s this weekend. I’m also going to plan an informal party – some friends and drinks. This year I’m putting some fun back into my holidays.

The Other Scarlet Letter

As a writer, less than 50% of my time is spent writing and the rest is spent marketing. It’s one of the many ways in which the profession has changed over the years. As part of my marketing campaign, my email signature includes links to my two most recently published articles (one about dealing with infertility, the other about being a family of two) , a link to this web site, and a note that my new book (a memoir) will be coming out soon! All of these things point blatantly to the fact that I am childless and infertile.

 

Recently I was in a room of ten people, some of whom I knew but most of whom I’d never met before. I had spoken to them all via email and included my signature. It dawned on me that every single person in the room knew these very intimate details of my life. Believe it not, despite airing my life here on this blog, I am a very private person, and I had a sudden moment of panic and discomfort knowing that everyone knew this information about me. I may as well have pinned a scarlet “I” to my dress.

 

Later, one of the men I’ve known for a number of years told me he’d read my articles and didn’t realize that my husband and I had dealt with infertility. He and his wife are childless, too. Another woman who I’d never met before also came up to me after the meeting and mentioned that she too was childless-not-by-choice.

 

Finding kindred spirits in those two people more than made up for the others knowing all my secrets. I am not proud of being infertile, but I am no longer ashamed of it either.

A Beautiful Voice for the Childless

Monica Wiesblott just closed a beautiful exhibition of her artwork in her show Barren: Life on Infertile Soil. If you didn’t make it the show, you can view it in her online gallery of the show.

I didn’t go to the show, even though I wanted to meet Monica and the gallery is just a couple of hours from my home. My mum is still here with me and I just wasn’t ready to take her with me nor was I able to get away alone. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you’ll know that, although my mother knows about my infertility, we don’t really talk about it, and I’m okay with that. I get to talk to you about it instead. J So I wasn’t ready to open up that Pandora ’s Box with my mother by taking her to the show. Maybe one day, maybe not.

But I did view Monica’s show online, in the privacy of my own room. It’s beautiful and frank, sometimes even raw, but most of all it is courageous. Monica has put out there in photographs and sculpture, what many of us who have dealt with infertility, or who are otherwise childless-not-by-choice, have felt and experienced.

Monica told me:

“I have received a lot of wonderful positive response from the show, many people have cried in the gallery and many, many others have trusted me enough to share their stories of loss. I am usually approached with the words, “I have never told anyone this….”

It’s my hope that if people like Monica keeping talking and showing, fewer women will have to say, “I have never told anyone this….”

Please check out the show online. Monica is hoping to take the show to other galleries, so if you happen to move in artistic circles and can help, please let Monica know.

More Than Just an Infertile Couple

Over the summer my husband and I went with a group of friends to see one of our favorite bands in concert. We’ve seen them several times in that last couple of years, but this concert was a small outdoor venue at a winery in Sonoma County, the heart of California’s Wine Country.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, the wine flowed, the picnic we brought was delicious, and when I suggested to my husband that we get up to dance on the lawn, he said yes. We danced through the entire show, until I was perspiring in a most unladylike manner and we’d just about worn a bald spot on the grass. Our other friends (who all have children) have “husbands-who-don’t-dance” and the wives, I’m sure, coveted my husband for a couple of hours. After the show we bought a CD, got it autographed by the band and even chased down the drummer, who I have a small , strange crush on. And we laughed. We danced and laughed and ate and drank. It really was a perfect day.

Two months have passed and I’m still thinking about that day. We’ve been to other concerts and events since and had a good time, maybe even been to better concerts, but that day sticks in my mind. That day my husband and I were the people we used to be before we were an infertile couple. Somewhere along that journey, little bits of who we were chipped off and we forgot why we ever got together and wanted children in the first place. That day reminded me.

If you’re childless-not-by-choice (or even not-exactly-by-choice) has the experienced changed who you are? And when was the last time you did something with your partner that made you both happy? If it’s been a while, can you plan something in the upcoming weeks that will break you out of your “infertile couple” state and remind you why you got together in the first place?

Earlier this year, Vicki at A Woman Without Children wrote about a hiking adventure with her husband. Maybe this will give you some inspiration, too.   

Ten Things I Love About My Body

Sparked by a suggestion from Jennifer on yesterday’s post, Happily Childless, Not-So-Happily Infertile, I’ve decided to cut my body some slack. So, it didn’t do exactly what I wanted it to do. Like Jennifer said, maybe it did the best it could. In truth, my body has been good to me and even it would never win a medal in the Reproductive Olympics, it would at least make the team in other areas.

Here are my top ten things I love and appreciate about my body:

  1. It’s never had a major illness that’s caused me to be hospitalized or aggressively treated
  2. My immune system is a ninja when it comes to fighting colds and flus.
  3. My digestive system is built like a nuclear fallout shelter, allowing me to eat just about anything
  4. My brain can do a Sudoku or Ken-ken  in pen
  5. My 40-year-old hair is still dark and shiny, except for a couple of grey rebels
  6. My shoulders are flexible enough that I can scratch my own back almost anywhere
  7. My legs can run, propel a bike, and do ten sets of stairs at the beach
  8. My boobs are closer to my chin than they are to my bellybutton
  9. My heart has the ability to swell to twice its normal size in the presence of someone I love
  10. My rump has superhuman magnetic powers for my husband’s hand

Be good to your body. Tell it (and us) what you love most about it.

Happily Childless, Not-So-Happily Infertile

Recently I’ve been dreaming about babies. These aren’t sad dreams or dreams of longing, just dreams in which I’ve interacted, in a very tender way, with a baby that wasn’t mine. I’ve woken up thinking about the dream, but not upset by it.

Last night I had a different dream. I was on one of those double decker open-topped tour buses (like the one I took in San Francisco last week) and the tour guide asked if anyone had ever tried (and he implied, failed) to have a baby. I reluctantly put up my hand. Looking around the bus, I saw that I was the only one.

“And what was that like?” asked the tour guide.

“It was horrible,” I replied. “It’s completely out of your control and there’s nothing you can do about it. There are procedures and things you can do to help, but you can’t control whether they work or not.”

After that the dream gets fuzzy and I woke up feeling very out-of-sorts.

Pottering around the kitchen this morning, I knew this would be a blog post of some nature, I just didn’t know about what. The dreams didn’t make much sense and I couldn’t decipher any meaning to them.

Buttering my toast, it came to me.

I am happily childless, but I am not happily infertile. I have reconciled the fact that I am not going to have children and I am okay with that. In fact, the more time passes, the more I realize how much I enjoy my life without children and what an upheaval to that life children would be. The part I haven’t yet reconciled is my infertility. I still can’t fully get to grips with the idea that my body failed me and that, no matter how hard I worked, not matter how dedicated I was to the goal,  there was nothing I could do to change that.

I don’t feel alone in my childlessness–the majority of my friends don’t have children—but infertility is still, and maybe will always be, something that makes me feel like the odd one out—the only person on the bus with her hand in the air.

Nobel Prize Awarded to Father of IVF

Last week, Robert G. Edwards was awarded the Nobel Prize in Psychology and Medicine for his work in in vitro fertilization. Edwards pioneered the technique that has allowed millions of infertile women to have biological children (about 4 million so far) of their own. There is no disputing that his work was ground-breaking and has made a huge and largely positive impact on our society.

And yet…

When I heard the announcement on the radio, my toes curled. I never went through IVF myself, but through this website, I’ve spoken to many women who have. I’ve heard their stories about the treatment, the drugs, the pain and the sickness, and I’ve heard about the failed attempts, numerous failed attempts in some cases. The two men discussing the Nobel Prize on the radio gushed about the miraculous technology and explained for the audience the basic process of retrieving, fertilizing, and transplanting the egg. Their commentary was full of wide-eyed wonder. But there was no mention of the drugs, the pain, the expense, the heartache, and I felt that they only told a fraction of the story.

I try to keep perspective and not allow any lingering bitterness about my own infertility to taint my opinion, but that’s impossible. I can’t unknow what I know, and yes, IVF has had a positive impact on millions of women, but it’s been a detriment to many more. Unfortunately, that side of the story is still seldom told.

Finding My Passion Again

Two Champion Cyclists!

This past weekend I took part in a big organized bike event. Along with my husband, mother, and some good friends, I pedaled my old Trek through 35 miles of beautiful Wine Country. It was a tough ride and I wasn’t quite as fit as I should have been, but still, I made it up the grueling two-mile-long hill, down the wild descent on the other side, and then turned around and went back over the same hill—wild climb up and grueling two-miles down! By the end I was exhausted, ready for the complimentary cold beer and mountain of paella, a hot shower and a long nap. And I did all of those things and THEN went out for beer and fish and chips with my family and friends. It was a fantastic day.

The ride reminded me how much I love biking and running, how much I used to enjoy training and participating in events. Somewhere in the mess of trying to become a mother, I lost sight of this. The ride inspired me to do more, to find other events and train to participate. And I can do that. I can get up early and go for runs; I can take an entire Saturday morning to go for a long training bike ride; and then I can do an all-day event and conk out on the couch in peace for the rest of the afternoon.  In short, I can do the things that please me, because the only other person I have to consider is my husband, and he’s a big boy who can choose to come along with me or stay home and entertain himself. Right now, I am grateful for this freedom to do something good for myself.

What about you? Over the years, what have you pushed aside that used to make you happy?  What haven’t you done for a long time that you could do now? And what would it take to do those things again?

A Voice for Life Without Baby

Last weekend author, blogger, non-mom cheerleader, and fellow Life Without Baby member, Pamela Tsigdinos, received an award from RESOLVE, The National Infertility Association, for her book Silent Sorority. Her post about the experience gave me goosebumps.

Pamela has taken her experience with infertility and turned it around into something outstanding. She is speaking out and being heard with her message that there is life after infertility, that there is life without children, and what’s more, that life is good.

Pamela, I know you’ll be reading this. I applaud you for the great work you’ve done and continue to do. Kudos, sister!